I’ve been dating my fiancé Brandon, a 32‑year‑old, for just over a year. We got engaged two months ago and were planning a spring wedding. A few weeks back, Brandon mentioned that his mother, Janet, was heading to South Carolina for a beach getaway and wanted me to come along, saying she’d like to get to know me better. I saw it as a chance to bond with her and a nice break from wedding prep, so I agreed right away. When we arrived, Brandon quietly told me that we would be staying in separate rooms. He hesitated, then said, “My mom thinks it’s improper to share a bed before marriage. Let’s just respect her wishes.” I kept my thoughts to myself to avoid any awkwardness. The next morning, Janet “casually” asked me to tidy her room. She said, “The maid service here is outrageous, and since you’re going to be the lady of the house soon, you might as well practice.” I forced a smile and told her I’d go for a walk, but that was only the beginning. On day two, we spent time at the beach while Janet lounged like royalty, issuing commands: “Honey, bring me a cocktail,” “Can you reapply my sunscreen?” “Would you mind rubbing my feet? My bunions are acting up.” When I replied, “Janet, I’m on vacation too. I’d rather not be running back and forth while you relax,” she froze, as if I’d offended her. Brandon pulled me aside and whispered, “What’s wrong with you? You’re being rude. My mom is trying to include you. Include me? As what? The help?” I let it slide. On day four, after dinner, something chilling occurred. I’d gone upstairs early with a headache, left my phone on the patio, and when I returned downstairs, I overheard Brandon and Janet speaking low‑voice. Brandon said, “Should we just tell her this now?”